Color and All
by Auphora66
Summary: Paul has the worst control out of the pack. That control gets put to the test when he imprints on a girl that wants to give him hell. Rewrite of 'Unattractive'. PaulxOC


**A/N: This is the rewrite of **_**Unattractive**_**, I hope you like it!!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Twilight Saga, Stephenie Meyer does. And the Quileute Tribal School is a real place; this story does not represent its beliefs, values, or opinions -the same applies to the residents of La Push.

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**-Paul-**

I hesitated at the door, insecurities clawing my mind. Could I even handle being back to school after being absent for days on end? Would I hurt someone? I suppose I could always pull out the fever card and then make a break for it, should anything instigate-.

"I know the door handle is nice and all, but I'd like to get inside sometime soon," Jared said impatiently, eager to see the love of his life. Taking a step aside, a tremor went through my shoulders. Unexpectedly, Jared didn't stroll into the school; instead, my pack brother watched me with wary eyes. "No one's forcing you to do this, Paul," he reminded, sounding oddly like Sam.

"I know that!" I snapped, the show of concern rubbing on my already raw nerves.

Jared frowned. "If you're going to be like that, then don't go to school today."

My hands clenched into fists, trembling slightly. Not going to school wasn't an option. I would have to redo senior year if I missed too many days of school. And that was something no upperclassman wanted to live down. I took a deep breath and centered myself, causing my fists to still and unclench. "I got this, Jared," I said calmly. "Really."

My pack brother watched me with calculating eyes and I tried not to let it bother me. There was a small frown tugging at the corner of his mouth, his eyebrows were slightly furrowed. An itch of familiarity scratched at my mind, and I tried to place the expression on my brother's face….It didn't take long to put the evidence together.

I shoved Jared aside and entered the school. I flexed my hands, trying to loosen the buzzing muscles.

Jared easily caught up with me, "What was that for?" he sounded more amused than offended, which irked me more than anything.

"You and Embry are betting on me." I hissed, keeping my volume low. "Again."

"Actually, I'm betting against you." Jared corrected, trying to lighten the mood.

I glared; I didn't feel like giving in to the backwards humor. I was about to suggest that he should take up sewing so he could thread his mouth shut, but Jared stepped out of my field of vision. There was a squeak and I turned in time to see Jared twirling Kim in his arms, who was smiling happily. Jealousy scratched at the back of my throat.

No, I didn't want Kim. Or even a girlfriend, for that matter. I just wanted the confidence that Jared had. More than anything in the universe, I wanted to have that complete confidence that I had enough self control to not phase when upset. I wanted to be a hundred percent positive that people were safe around me.

I mean, phasing into a wolf was great -I had no qualms with my heritage- but it was the failure to control it that killed me…I pushed away my growing pessimistic attitude: the negative thoughts were only going to upset me. I cleared my throat to get the love birds' attention and to loosen up the muscles in my constricting throat.

"Hello, Paul." Kim said softly with her eyes on the floor, her face a tad darker than before. She really was shy, but despite that, she made no move to leave Jared's arms. I liked to think that she was starting to step out of her shell around me (not that it really mattered; I knew her as well as Jared because of that wolf pack connection).

"Hi."

Her eyes lifted up to mine, giving me a timid smile. "How have you been?"

I fought to keep my face neutral. "Okay," I said, deciding to keep things on the lighter side. "I'd be better if your boyfriend would stop gambling on my life's decisions." I added for the sole purpose of getting Jared into trouble.

Kim pursed her lips and faced her gambler, giving him a disapproving look. Jared groaned, knowing full-well that he was in for a rough time. The hum in my muscles blessedly died.

I left the couple alone to sort out their differences in morality with a smile threatening to tug at the corner of my mouth. Classmates backed away from me like I was Moses and they were the sea. And although I was ignoring them, I knew they were averting their gazes to avoid eye contact.

I got my class materials out of my locker and headed towards the spot where the three musketeers would be, hearing whispers of a new student about to join the Quileute Tribal School along the way, and chose to stand by Embry. Quil, Jacob, and him were speaking the language of mechanics and I listened in with little interest. I understood what they were saying and all, but cars and parts weren't my thing. I smiled at the teasing jeers the trio threw at each other (occasionally participating myself) and was happy to find that the tension in my muscles had disappeared entirely.

When Jacob and Quil started debating about dirt bikes and differing brand-names, Embry turned to me. "So, what do you want?"

The question wasn't mean. It was just that I didn't usually hang out with the three of them (and vise-versa) outside of Pack-dinners and patrol.

"Could you fix my alarm clock? The stupid thing woke me up three hours prior to its setting this morning."

"Is it digital?"

"No, it's mechanical. It has the two bells on top."

Embry thought about it for a moment and then said, "Drop it off at my house before patrol starts and I'll take a look at it."

The bell rang and I nodded to the trio before leaving for first hour.

--

**-Alyssa-**

"Alyssa!" a voice screamed from the other room. I jumped up in alarm; effectively bumping into the table, making my cereal crash to the floor. I would have been irritated by it, but I was too busy running into the living room.

"What is it Michael?" I asked, nearly tripping over my own feet. I caught myself by clinging to the wall. I felt relieved to find Michael standing in the middle of the room, seemingly unharmed.

Michael turned to look at me, a pout on his face, "I can't find the remote."

"You're ten years old, you can find it yourself." I growled, feeling as if he had worried me on purpose. Irritation bubbled up inside my chest.

"C'mon Alyssa, please?"

"I have to get ready for school." I said curtly, and then added, "And so do you."

"Yeah, but I'm _dressed_. -We're late anyways; Dad forgot to change the clocks to this time zone."

"What?!" I screeched. "You knew that and you never _told_ me?" I saw the corner of Michael's mouth twitch as he tried not to smile. "You little brat!"

His features disappeared as he ran from me, his speed and distance working together to make him a detail-less figure. Out of sheer temper, I chased him around the room and throughout the first level of the house. I stopped pursuing him after a good minute; any longer and I was sure to trip over something. My contacts, which helped my vision some, wasn't in.

"What's with all of the noise?" a tired Dad asked, from the top of the stairs. He was still in his pajamas; his dark brown hair was messy and he looked like he was developing bags under his brown eyes from lack of sleep.

"Michael conveniently forgot to remind us that the clocks are wrong," I explained, crossing my arms.

"Oh, shoot! That means you're late to school!" he exclaimed, awake now.

I sighed, "I'm not exactly ready. Don't worry about it, Dad; go ahead and take a shower."

Dad took in the fact that I was still in my pajamas and nodded. He disappeared around the corner. Pushing away the creeping feeling that the week wasn't going to go well, I went back into the kitchen and cleaned up the cereal that had fallen.

"Hey, Alyssa?" Michael asked, popping out of nowhere.

I jumped in surprise and then smacked him in the shoulder, "How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"

"Do what?" he asked cheekily, despite the fact that he was rubbing his shoulder.

"Pop out of nowhere; you should know better by now."

Michael composed his face into an expression of false apology. "Sorry."

"You better be." I replied sharply.

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed and then the kid leaned back against the wall, wearing a small smile. "Are you scared of going to a new school?" he asked conversationally. Underneath the casual demeanor, I could tell that he wanted to be reassured that there was nothing to be afraid of.

"No, Michael." I answered. And it was the truth. I wasn't afraid of a new school with new teachers and different classmates. I was, however, worried about the reaction of my peers. They were Native Americans who had a history of inequality with white people (I mean, didn't all Native Americans suffer that??)…And my skin was very white…at least Michael had a tan.

"So…how come you aren't scared?" Michael asked, flipping the remote in his hand. The motion was a habit of his.

"Because there's nothing to be afraid of. People in small towns are usually nice." It was probably a stereotype; I had no idea whether people in small towns were nice or not.

"Do you think they'll call you names?"

"I'm a person with albinism, Michael. I'm not an alien." I rolled my eyes, going over to the cabinet and pulling out a bowl.

"They might think you are with your red eyes."

"So where did you find the remote?" I asked, changing the subject. I set the bowl down on the counter and poured myself some cereal from the box nearby.

"On top of the tv," he answered happily, flipping the remote in his hand still. I put the plastic clip on the cereal bag and closed the box up.

With an irritated sigh, I said, "Michael, get some breakfast. As soon as Dad is out of the shower, he'll want to get going." I moved over to the fridge to get some milk.

"Could you make me some toast?"

"You can make it yourself. You're a big ten year old boy, I'm sure you can handle putting a slice of bread into the toaster."

He complained for five minutes but when he found that I wasn't going to budge, he made it himself. I wasn't his servant; it served him right to get a good reminder of that. I ate my cereal quickly, unable to enjoy it because Michael had taken away so much of my time.

My chest began to feel tight when my thoughts took a negative turn. It would probably be difficult to make friends with the cliques already established. I mean, these were people who grew up together and knew each others ancestry as well as their own. How could I possibly fit in?

I snorted at my own insecurity and began choking on the cereal that I had been mechanically eating. A long moment later, my lungs calmed down and the coughing ceased. Who cares whether I belong or not? It was my last year of high school; it wasn't like I was going to be in the small town for long. And if my soul needed the company of friendship, I could always talk to my friends from Michigan.

No big deal.

Climbing up the stairs to my room, I went through the boxes of clothes that I hadn't unpacked and searched for something nice to wear. -Something nice and _light colored_, since darker shades made me paler by contrast…at least, that's what my mom had always told me. After five minutes of looking for something suitable, I decided to screw the idea of nice looking (and light colored) clothes. Nothing considerably cute was going to show anyways, not with a sweatshirt on.

And hadn't told myself that I didn't care what people think? -I believe I did.

I mentally made a rude gesture to the future people who would judge me and grabbed a pair of dusky blue skinny jeans, a simple black shirt, and a dark purple hoody in rebellion. I headed for my bathroom (my _own _bathroom- life was good) and assessed my reflection in the mirror. My skin looked startlingly pale and my red eyes stood out, making me look…inhuman.

"Alyssa, are you ready to go?" Dad called from downstairs. He and Michael were waiting for me.

I snapped out of my reverie and replied, "In a minute!" Hastily putting in my contacts, I managed to spill some cleaning solution on the counter. And when it came to the ritual of brushing my teeth, I turned into a crazy woman before my very eyes. Swishing some mouthwash around would have been a comical sight, but I reminded myself that the bottle was in a box somewhere and that I didn't have time to look for it. I glanced at my reflection before flicking the light switch and dashing out.

--

"I really don't want to stay after school, Dad." I said, fidgeting with the strap of my purse.

"I thought we talked about this," he sighed, a little exasperated.

"And I agreed."

"You've lost me here, kiddo."

"What I'm trying to say is that it's my first day of school and I want to get settled in before I take any extra classes."

"Sorry, but a teacher already agreed to stay after school three times a week to tutor you. It would be rude to cancel," his voice held a tone of finality and I knew that the topic had closed.

"Am I staying after, too?" Michael asked from the backseat.

"Yes. I'll be picking you two up when I get out of work."

Dad was a linguist, and was always able to find something to keep him busy. Currently, his new and shiny interest was the Quileutes and their language. I hoped the…chief? Council? -wouldn't kick us out because he was asking too many questions.

My little brother groaned. "But you take _forever_ to get off work! We're gonna _starve_."

Dad chuckled. "You are not going to _starve_; you're only going to be there for an hour and a half. But I packed some food for the two of you anyway."

"What about lunch?" I asked.

He gave me a teasing smile. "You're old enough to be trusted with lunch money, aren't you?"

"Nope. Seventeen years old and I still can't buy my own food."

He looked at my serious face and the three of us busted out laughing.

When we sobered up, Dad took on his I'm-not-messing-around face. "Alyssa, you are going to have to tell your teachers how to accommodate you in their class."

"You didn't tell them that I have albinism?!" I asked incredulously. Usually my dad, who is oh so protective, informs the school beforehand and meets with the teachers. I had thought that it was odd when he hadn't dragged me along with him to go to the meetings, but I never thought it would be because he hadn't met any of my teachers at all!

"No, that's your job now."

"But-!"

"I'm doing this because I can't tell your employer or your coworkers about your needs for you. You'll need to be able to do this yourself someday, so you might as well start now."

"Yeah, okay, I get that -but why didn't you tell me this sooner?! Now I'll be interrogated all day!"

"You won't be interrogated because you'll tell them everything they need to know so that they won't have to ask you anything."

There was a tense silence. I was furious. If he had wanted me to talk to my teachers alone, I would have scheduled the meetings myself. Dad shouldn't have dropped this on me all of a sudden; it was _my _life -he had no right. I wanted to yell these thoughts at him but the words wouldn't come out. My chest was tight. I couldn't breathe deeply enough.

"Sometimes, Alyssa, you can't always prepare yourself." Dad said quietly, although his words sounded loud in the silent car. "You can't always make an appointment to discuss your needs."

When I didn't respond, he continued.

"Sometimes you're going to have to swallow your pride and ask for help in front of people."

Without missing a beat, I snapped, "Then maybe you and Mom should have gone to marriage counseling, instead of arguing and signing the divorce papers right off the bat."

I instantly regretted saying that. I only felt worse when the only reply I got was a quiet nod.

--

**-Paul-**

"Bored" wasn't a strong enough word to express my current situation. I already knew that A-Ka-Lat (James Island) and La Push were important sites in World War II. My peers and I had learned this in middle school. The only difference was that I now needed to know that our home had been part of the Coastal Lookout System of the thirteenth Naval District. The detailed information, of course, was only useful for the pop quizzes that never had much 'pop' (the mini-tests were way too predictable for that). I finished writing the last sentence of the essay that Miss. Novak had assigned and let out a sigh when I penciled in the period at the end. _Finally_ I was done.

Now I could sleep.

The late-night shift plus the eager alarm clock had seriously killed my energy, along with skipping breakfast. Not that missing the first meal of the day was voluntary, of course; Mom had neglected to go grocery shopping again. I used to think that the lack of food was due to the lack of money, but I wasn't so naïve any-.

Over the noise of whispering classmates and pencils writing, I heard footsteps near the door. I looked up and saw a pale face with red eyes in the glass pane. Panic erupted in my mind. This classroom was at the end of the hall, there was no doubt that the other students from the previous classrooms were dead. Shouldn't there have been some kind of forewarning? I should have heard something at the very least! I cursed under my breath as heat raced down my spine and sped to my fingertips and toes.

My muscles were humming and I closed my eyes, panic clawing at my throat. My classmates were far to close for me to phase! They would get hurt. I heard the door handle slide down and the latch simultaneously pull back. My eyes opened as the door swung open to let the bloodsucker in. If the leech was going to attack my peers, rules be damned; I would use my supernatural speed to get to the front of the classroom and phase where no one was in range (excluding the vamp).

I leaned forward, prepared to go through with my plan, but the bloodsucker did something I had not expected her to do. Instead of rushing in, she hesitantly entered. Everything around me suddenly seemed to dull in color and disappear in the light of her radiance. She hadn't come any closer nor had she grown in size, but she filled the room somehow.

Her pale skin was aglow with life; flushing little by little as she strode towards the teacher's desk, averting her crimson eyes to avoid meeting anyone's gaze. Her hair, nearly white in color, flowed down and ended at her bust. It was parted at the side and her bangs, sweeping onto her forehead, tried to conceal her red eyes. The girl wore a black t-shirt beneath a form-fitting dark purple hoodie, dusky blue skinny-jeans, and a pair of black converse. Her figure was slender and small in proportion, but a tad too big to be considered petite. A harmonious combination of sweet and spicy enticed the air and I faintly registered that it had not burned my nose. It was a really nice human scent.

I watched in awe as she fished out a slip of paper from her purse and handed it to the teacher. I mildly wondered where she had been; I would have definitely noticed someone like her. Had she been late? Hiding? (I wouldn't blame her if that was the case)

"This is the new student that I told you would be joining us," Miss. Novak reminded the class, causing me to jolt in my seat. Feeling disoriented, I looked around to get my bearings. Oh right. I was at school and it was the second class period, History.

My eyes slid back to Quileute Tribal School's newest addition, remembering the notification of a new student from last week. Hadn't there been kids whispering about what the new kid would be like this morning? …They certainly hadn't expected someone as unique as this girl, I bet. A fierce wave of protective instinct washed over me and my thoughts turned threatening towards anyone who would dare make fun of her.

"Hello, Alyssa. My name is Miss. Novak," the teacher said quietly to the girl. "Why don't you say a few things about yourself?"

Alyssa looked uncertain, but faced the class anyway. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. "Hi," she said sheepishly. Her voice was between high and low; she spoke a tad louder than most shy people did. A few of my peers greeted her back. My vocal cords were experiencing some technical difficulties at the moment.

"I'm Alyssa Winters; um…I know that I'm pale, but don't worry, your jugulars are safe." The class chuckled. Her shoulders relaxed a bit and her fingers stopped toying with the silver band on her middle finger. "I'm an albino, but to be politically correct, you should refer to me as a person who has albinism. -And no, it's not 'albinoism'. Trust me on this.

"I like watching movies; action, horror, and comedy are the best. I was part of the thespian society at my old school." At the questioning looks she received, she clarified, "It's about theatre; you know, acting and plays and all that jazz?"

Alyssa continued on a second later, feeling that her explanation had been adequate, "Um, yeah. I'm not really into sports unless you count babysitting my younger brother." Another chuckle from my classmates. Her smile got bigger, causing the warm bubble in my chest to swell. "Are there any questions?"

I was about to raise my own when I realized that I didn't know where to begin. The tendons in my hand went taut as I gripped my leg, knowing that I would only sound stupid should I attempt to ask Alyssa a question…

Why did I care so much?

The bubble of warmth imploded, leaving me hollow and nauseous. I had imprinted.

That single realization made me feel…I don't know. There was too much emotion all at once; each of them contradicting another. I was excited and upset. I was relieved and terrified. I wanted to hate the albino girl -sorry, girl with albinism- in front of me, for making me feel like this; for being yet another thing in my life that I couldn't control. And yet I wanted to love her and be the best thing that ever happened to her.

I rested my head in my hands in an attempt to pull myself back together, but I soon realized that there was no 'back together'. Everything had changed and there was no going back. I wasn't enough; I needed Alyssa. She was my other half and I would always be incomplete without her.

It all sounded so cliché. God, this was awful.

I looked back at her and heard her finish something about someone who studied languages. She was relaxed now, comfortable being on display in front of the class. She was beautiful and I distantly wondered if that was the imprinting-magic talking or if I really thought that.

A few of my classmates raised their hands, having other questions for her to answer. Alyssa looked over my peers and then made eye contact with me. My mouth went dry and the rhythm of my heart thumped in my ears. My stomach went all jittery and I couldn't quite remember how to breathe. I was feeling self-conscious about my appearance and insecure about a zillion-and-one things, but I was unable to break the connection between us. And then her eyes slid to someone else and she nodded, signaling for that person to ask her a question. My lungs sucked in oxygen and I wiped my hands on my jeans.

How in the world was I going to pull through this?

Sandra Carols, a nice enough girl, asked Alyssa something. I didn't hear; I was too busy trying to turn the world right-side-in. I did, however, listen to Alyssa's answer. She was from Michigan (inland -not by the lakes) and that she used to visit the sand dunes there.

"We don't have sand dunes, but we have tide pools." Ryan Chess informed her, pulling me out of my thoughts. Jealousy flared up; I didn't want any guy, _especially_ Ryan Chess, talking to her. It wasn't just me; the rest of the male population also silently willed him to fall down the stairs in a gory fashion. To think we used to be friends.

I flexed my hands, distantly hoping that the hum in them would vanish and never come back.

"Really?" Alyssa asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"Yeah," Ryan said, coolly. "There's going to be a bonfire this Saturday at the beach, you should come."

Although I didn't like Ryan, he had just given me an opportunity to talk to my other half and for that, I was grateful. Perhaps the rest of the Pack could meet her too, and if that happened, she would be as good as one of us. I had no doubts that she wouldn't like them; they were too funny and sociable to dislike. My heart rose, now for her answer…

Alyssa smiled, "Thanks, um-?"

"Oh, my name is Ryan."

"Thanks, Ryan. I think I'll go. Which beach?" My emotions soared up to cloud nine; the hum stopped. I would get to see her over the weekend! The corner of my mouth lifted in a smile. I had plenty of time to figure out what I was going to talk to her about. No worries.

Sandra told her so quickly it was as if Alyssa would change her mind if she didn't tell her fast enough.

"Thanks, Sandra. Does anyone else have any questions?"

"Actually, Alyssa, I think that's enough questions for today." Miss. Novak interfered. "The class needs to finish their essays." My classmates complained and groaned for a good ten seconds but went back to writing anyway.

Mrs. Novak handed Alyssa some papers and a text book, telling her that if she had any questions, to feel free and ask herself or a classmate. And then the teacher pointed to the table with the only seat available in the class….the one in the back next to me.

Needless to say, I panicked. My isolation from the rest of the class was a precaution that I took in every class period …With a sudden clarity; I realized it would be better to keep my distance from Alyssa. Ignore her. Encourage her to stay back, to stay away from me.

Besides, I was unstable enough as it was. I didn't need an imprint to throw into the mix; I had enough on my plate already….the magic of imprinting should have stayed a legend because frankly, I wasn't ready to have a soul mate.

I watched as Alyssa walked down the aisle, keeping her eyes on the floor and holding her breath. I could hear the rhythm of her heart speed up. She set her stuff down on the table and took a seat only inches away, not glancing at me once. The movement sent a wave of air at me; her scent being a pleasant combination of sweet and spicy. I was tempted to lean over and place my nose against her neck and inhale a more concentrated scent, but I wasn't crazy enough to do that…well, okay maybe I was. I started to shift my weight-.

But thankfully (and to my disappointment), there were social standards to uphold. So at the risk of being branded a freak or betraying my vow to ignore my imprint, I was able to suppress my urge to lean closer to Alyssa. I looked down at my completed essay and stared at it with little focus.

Unable to help myself, I let out an inaudible chuckle.

It was going to be an interesting semester that was for sure.

**-Alyssa-**

Okay, so telling the teacher that I couldn't see from the back hadn't exactly worked. -Not that it mattered; I wouldn't have been able to see the board from the front row anyways, not without my monocular (hand-held telescope). In all honesty, I had chickened out. But in my defense, I hadn't wanted to kick someone out of their seat…

Crap. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. I should have explained my poor vision to the teacher right after she had told me her name. -No, I should have written an explanation on the back of that stupid sign-here sheet.

I could always talk to her after class…but then I would be late to third hour. Hmm. What was that class again? I pulled out my schedule from my pocket.

First Hour - Reading/Language Arts - Mrs. Wayland

Second Hour - History - Miss. Novak

Third Hour - Math - Mr. Denson

-Lunch-

Fourth Hour - Quileute Culture - Mr. Ross

Fifth Hour - Science - Mrs. Wayland

Sixth Hour - Speech - Mr. Ross

Eh, I could afford to be late for math...What the-? I have _three_ teachers more than once, all in one day? Wasn't that a bit…odd? Excessive, maybe?

…I guess the school was small enough for teachers to teach multiple subjects. I glanced at my peers and saw a few of them turning in their seats to stare at me. I averted my eyes back to the table, trying not to let their staring get to me.

At my old school, my albino features weren't a big deal; plenty of people had fair skin and some even had light colored hair similar to mine (although theirs hadn't been natural). The only thing that had been odd about my appearance had been my red eyes…I tilted my chin so they were concealed by my bangs.

In a moment of being very self-conscious, I wished that I hadn't been placed in the tribal school. If only my dad hadn't flatly refused to put Michael and I in the Quillayute public schools, or even the Forks school system which was only twenty minutes away. He thought that he was doing us a favor, putting some cultural diversity into our lives.

Drumming my fingers on the table, a sheet of paper caught my eye and I looked over to my right. What the essay was about was beyond me; I saw words like 'A Ka Lat' and '13th Naval District'. Was I expected to write today's assignment??

"Hey," said a male voice. I looked up (and up!) to my right and saw that I was table buddies with the Intense Guy. -He had made a quiet impression on me earlier when we had made eye contact. Whether that was good or bad, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that he had looked at me with an intensity that I had never received before.

Hopefully he was pro-white person. I really didn't want to deal with any prejudice at the moment (or ever).

…Intense Guy didn't look particularly friendly. His eyebrows were settled low and were slightly angled downward, giving him a serious, almost bad-boy look to him. His cheekbones were high and his jaw-line didn't have any childhood roundness. The bridge of his nose was thinner than most of his classmates and by god, he was built sturdier than them all. His shirt looked kinda tight around his chest and shoulders. He wasn't bulky by any means but he certainly wasn't a twig. It would seem safe to assume that Intense Guy works out.

"Would you stop tapping your fingers on the table? It's annoying. " he said, his black eyes not moving away from his essay. He was doodling in the margins of the paper.

Stopping mid-tap, I mumbled, "Sorry."

I looked down at the table, watching him out of the corner of my eye while fighting down the tiny itch of embarrassment. After a minute of glancing at him, I realized that I had been waiting for him to sneak a peek at me. Intense Guy never did. Instead, his eyes remained on his paper, his pencil sketching random leaves and tribal animals.

I had expected to feel relieved at the lack of attention, but in the place of appreciation was discomfort. -It wasn't like I _enjoyed _being the center of attention or anything, but it was just too weird meeting someone the first time and not have them stare or ask me questions about albinism.

"So, um, what's your name?" I asked, trying to keep my volume low in the quiet room. Maybe he could help me figure out the assignment…

His pencil paused and he turned to face me. I stood corrected: his eyes were dark grey, not black or dark brown. Maybe he had a parent who wasn't an Indian? "Paul Grayson."

"Alyssa Winters."

He looked at me with his thin lips in a flat line. "Yeah, I know. You told the entire class."

"Right." I said, making my tone light and breezy. Better to look like a ditz than an embarrassed idiot. "So do you think Mr. Denson will mind if I'm late to his math class?"

Paul shrugged and went back to doodling.

"Could you at least _pretend_ to be friendly?" I snapped unthinkingly, irritated by his coldness.

Paul's pencil paused on the paper, but he didn't bother looking at me. "Just because you're the shiny new toy of QTS doesn't mean I want anything to do with you."

My jaw dropped. I stared at him in shocked silence, unable to believe my ears. How could someone be so-?

"Besides," he continued as if his previous statement wasn't out of line. "You won't be here long."

"Oh?" I questioned, making the monosyllable cold and sharp.

"You're not from a tribe. You don't belong here."

"You have no right to tell me where I do and don't belong." I said in a low, firm voice.

He lifted a shoulder. "If you say so." His attention returned to the small sketches in the margins of his paper.

My hand itched to hit something but I resisted the urge. Fighting on the first day of school was generally frowned upon. Well, any fighting was, I supposed. "So are you a jerk to everyone or am I the only one with that privilege?"

The corner of his mouth twitched as if to smile. "I grace everyone with my words of wisdom."

So the A-hole had an arrogant streak in him. Within the span of forty seconds, I already disliked the guy.

And to think I have to deal with the jerk for the rest of the school year.

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**A/N: People with albinism do have normal eye color but, depending on the light, may turn red, pink, or violet. In this fic, Alyssa will have a consistent eye color of red since it would be really difficult to have it change a zillion and one times and because the uniqueness of that eye color will help build her character. Alyssa cannot see well because of the lack of pigment in her eyes; her vision is not blurry, it's just that she has poor resolution…think of a picture in the newspaper compared to a high definition television -the picture in the paper isn't blurry, it just doesn't have as many pixels as the tv. **

**For more information about albinism, go to www(dot)albinism(dot)org. It'll take you to the website of The National Organization for Albinism and Hypopigmentation (NOAH). **


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